


The Crane, the Plastic Gun, and Foosball

by the_crazyones



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 21:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2202996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_crazyones/pseuds/the_crazyones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the loss to Seirin, Hayama stomped off to get his comfort food, cucumber sushi. He never expected to meet Riko. Or to end up competing with her on three random games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Crane, the Plastic Gun, and Foosball

**Author's Note:**

> ...crap. I think I'm starting to like Hayama tremendously. This was written purely so that I could write him. And I guess I thought it'd be interesting to see him build a crack relationship not in canon.

Hayama was still sweating when he walked into the convenience store. His chest, it was constricted. As though someone had placed a two-ton sack on top of it. It _hurt,_ made breathing difficult. And it was a completely normal feeling after a loss.

Damn it, thought Hayama, I thought the days I felt like this would be gone after I joined Rakuzan. He pictured the last time he felt this way. Back then, the bitter loss he experienced had been against Teikou. This is much worse, though, he told himself bitterly. Because Rakuzan had been _so close_ to victory. Who could have predicted Seirin, of all the teams in the Winter Cup, beating Rakuzan?

He strode straight for the sushi aisle, wanting to drown himself in _kappa maki_ (cucumber sushi) _._ Perhaps the sweet, cool cucumber taste could overwhelm the constant bitterness on his tongue. As he stretched a hand for the sushi, he overheard someone swearing.

Next to the refrigerated sushi compartment was a crane game. The girl playing it was the one with the foul mouth. Glancing at her face, Hayama raised an eyebrow. She looked familiar. Shrugging, he reached for five packs of _kappa maki._ Then realisation struck him: he remembered where he had seen her.

She was Seirin’s coach, Aida Riko. He had literally been in the same room with her less than an hour ago, at Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium. What was she doing in the store? Shouldn’t she be celebrating with the rest of her team?

Scowling, Hayama turned away, wanting to place distance between them. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone from Seirin. Not right now. His feet betrayed him, however. Before he knew it, he was next to her.

“The hell you’re trying to do?” Gruff and impatient, his voice was.

The girl gaped at his sudden presence, then cleared her throat. “Ah. Hayama-kun.” She nodded at him. “Fancy meeting you here. I’m playing this game...because, erm. I’d never won at it before. So I wanted to play it again. No special reason.”

Hayama didn’t get it. “Why now? You should be with the others, right? You guys won.” It was difficult stating it without sounding bitter. So he didn’t bother trying to disguise his irritation.

She looked awkward. “It’s because we won that I’m playing it now. To...sort of, continue the winning streak? I don’t know.” She frowned. “I can’t explain. I just had this desire to play this game all of a sudden. I thought if ever there was a time for me to best the game, it would be now. So I came here to play it again…” She trailed off, shrugging. “Like I said. No special reason.”

A short silence. Then she said, “If you’ll excuse me, Hayama-kun.” And turned back to the game.

She struggled with the crane game, cursing under her breath. Hayama watched her for a moment. Then made a noise at the back of his throat. Brushing her hands from the knobs and buttons, he took over the game, simultaneously shimmying her aside. “Let me handle it,” he said, his tone full of cockiness. “I’m pretty sure I can do this, no sweat.”

“That’s not the point,” she argued. “ _I’m_ the one who has to beat the game.”

“Then this is a challenge to you,” he stated loudly. “I’m gonna win this game in less than five attempts.” He shot her a glare. “I’m gonna beat this faster than you. Hah!”

“What?! Why are you issuing this random challenge all of a sudden?”

“Hmph,” was Hayama’s only reply. Fiddling with the knobs, he dropped an elephant soft toy three times before his nimble fingers got the hang of the game. By his fourth attempt, he caught the toy and dropped it flawlessly through the chute in the game booth.

“I won!” He grabbed the toy from the slot, and with swagger, pressed it into the girl’s hands. “Hah, you’re the loser! The loser!”

“Whaa?!”

Hayama felt _great._ All his prior irritation had vanished. _I bested the Seirin coach!_ , he thought happily. He didn’t give a damn that this whole situation was highly immature of him. He wanted any sort of victory over Seirin. Vindictively, he thought this victory over the girl now negated any of her coaching ability which caused her win in the Winter Cup.

“Whelp! Later,” was Hayama’s cheerful farewell once he haggled with the cashier over sushi promotional prices.

Riko could only stare at Hayama, jaw agape and elephant soft toy still in her hands, as he left the store whistling and snickering about _kappa maki._

* * *

Two weeks later, Hayama met Riko again. 

“Why do we have to be in Tokyo, Reo-nee?” complained Hayama, dragging his feet. “I bought this new computer game which I wanted to play throughout Christmas break too…”

“Sei-chan insisted for all of us to spend New Year’s together, Kotarou-chan,” replied Mibuchi with the weariness of explaining something for the hundredth time. “And he wanted to spend it with his Teikou friends too. So of course we have to come to Tokyo to meet everyone. It’ll be fun, wouldn’t it? You can challenge Kagami and Izuki again.”

“Yeah...I’ll definitely whip their asses this time.” Hayama sniggered, eyes narrowing. Then as a chill wind passed through, he shivered violently. “But Reo-nee! Akashi being all sentimental about his middle school buddies means that we have to come out tonight on New Year’s eve when it’s so fricking cold like this!”

“I’ll get you some _oden_ (boiled ingredients in broth) later,” said Mibuchi with a pained expression, then Nebuya chimed in. “Yes, let’s get _oden_! And takoyaki, and yakitori, and _yaki imo_ (baked sweet potatoes)...” He went on listing various foods they could potentially get at the New Year’s festival.

To Mibuchi’s relief, they spotted Akashi just then. For this Tokyo trip, Mibuchi, Hayama and Nebuya were living together, and hence had decided to head to Meiji shrine together. They were meeting Akashi and Mayuzumi there, and the other Miracles with the rest of their respective teams that night for the New Year’s countdown and the festival.

Still sore about their Winter Cup loss, Hayama avoided Seirin and their jollities, preferring to stuff his mouth with red bean bun and _taiyaki_ (fish-shaped cake). Walking by a shooting game stall, however, he was suddenly called out.

“Hayama-kun! Stop!”

“Aida Riko, huh.” Shoving his hands into his pockets, Hayama frowned at her. “‘Sup.” He briefly reminded himself of his small victory over her on Rakuzan’s day of bitter loss.

“I...challenge you!” One hand on her hip and legs apart, Riko pointed at the shooting game stall. “To a match!”

He snorted. “Why? Can’t get over the fact that I beat you in the crane game that day?”

“Yeah!”

Hayama was slightly thrown by her straightforwardness.

“You took over my victory like that! So I’m gonna do the same with this shooting game! I just…” She let out an incoherent growl. “I can’t stand the fact that you shoved a challenge in my face the other day and...ugh! Yeah! You technically won! So I’m gonna win this one!”

I bet she still couldn’t beat the crane game even after I left, Hayama thought. Outwardly, he smirked, showing fangs. “Fine,” he said confidently. “I’ll take up your challenge. But I gotta tell you — I’m gonna win this one again.”

“Hah! We’ll see about that!”

In fading voices, Hayama heard Hyuuga and Mibuchi say that the group was heading off to other stalls but he didn’t bother. He was fixated on this current challenge. Game after game he played with Riko. Cackling madly, he aimed shots which let out _clink-clink-clink_ ’s against the glass bottles, shooting them down one by one. Next to him Riko started all-out cursing as her shots missed wide, flying in all directions.

Soon Hayama had won his sixth round. A mountain of soft toys sat on the table in front of him. Riko, meanwhile, had failed to win any. “Gyaa-ha ha!” Hayama placed his hands onto his hips, releasing bouts of laughter into the cold air. “I win again! Told you I was gonna!” He picked up a soft toy, elephant-shaped, and shoved it towards Riko.

“Here, have one of my prizes since you have _none._ Let this one keep your other one company. Ha ha ha!” he cackled again.

“Shut it!” Riko went up to his face. “Let’s do another round! I dare you!”

“Meh, don’t wanna.” Hayama rubbed his stomach. “I’m hungry. Later.” He began searching for Mibuchi and Nebuya. “Reo-nee! Ei-chan! Let’s go grab some food!” But they were nowhere to be found.

Then Riko looked around too, and realised she was in a similar situation. “Where is everyone?”

“What the shit. They left us,” Hayama growled. “I thought this was supposed to be a New Year’s celebration with everyone!”

“Let’s not bother about that,” Riko quickly spoke up, wanting to diffuse Hayama’s irritation. “Here,” she said, buying skewered meat off a stall next to them. “Want some food?”

“Hell yeah!”

They walked around the shrine grounds, looking for their group. As they passed through the stalls, Riko bought candy, boiled sweet potatoes, grilled corn — mainly to stave off Hayama’s burgeoning grumpiness, measured by the volume of his stomach growls. It wasn’t long before he was grinning like a kid again.

“Here, want some soda?” he said, extending the can to Riko after having taken a large gulp.

She eyed the can from the corner of her eye. “Uh, no thanks. I pass.” Then suddenly, all around them they heard the sound of bells ringing.

“Hey it’s the New Year’s already!” shouted Hayama into Riko’s ear amidst the loud cheering.

“Happy New Year!” Riko yelled back. She looked around, and spotting a stall selling amulets, went towards it. Quirking an eyebrow, Hayama followed her. She sifted through the amulets on display, then picked up a handful.

“Here, this is for you,” she said once she purchased them. She put one onto Hayama’s palm. “An amulet for good health.”

“Good health?! Ehh...that’s so boring…” Hayama scrunched his eyes, making a face. “Why don’t you get me something like a love charm for me to get a girlfriend this year? That’s much more useful…”

Riko curled her lips. “Don’t be stupid. It’s important for you to take good care of your health as an athlete. Make sure you do, Hayama-kun.” She moved away, inspecting other stalls.

Hayama watched her, the amulet still lying in his hand. Then he looked at it. And he remembered the conversation he overheard between Nebuya and Ironheart earlier that evening. _How’re your knees, Kiyoshi?,_ Nebuya had said. _They’re fine, thanks for asking!,_ was the cheerful response. Then Nebuya had challenged Kiyoshi to a one-on-one the next time he came to Tokyo. Kiyoshi’s reply after that, however: _Hah...it might take a while before I can accept your challenge…_

Even to Hayama that reply was an all-too-obvious signpost on the condition of Kiyoshi’s knees. Suddenly, everything around Hayama seemed too bright, or too dark. _So_ , he thought, _I’ve lost a rival among the Uncrowned Kings_. He glanced at Riko. _To you, all’s fair in health matters, huh. Even though it’s me. A guy you only know as the ‘Raijuu’._

He closed his fingers over the amulet.

* * *

A victory was a victory. Regardless of the game: a crane game in a small convenience store, a shooting game at a festival, a national-level basketball match. As an Uncrowned King and national-level small forward who had gone for numerous matches, Hayama understood this perhaps at a greater depth than the average person. 

A victory was a victory; but it differed in every context too. Hayama thought he could fool himself into feeling equal satisfaction in beating Riko as perhaps if he had won the Winter Cup. The mere mention of Kiyoshi, however, was enough to break this hope down. Winning over him in any game other than basketball — would that give a similar sense of satisfaction?

When Hayama next went to Tokyo, it was on his own. He paid a visit to his relatives, dropped off a few gifts, shrugged off their nagging (“yes, _yes,_ I’m gonna go to university first and _then_ go pro, sheesh”) then he was free to go. He first walked around Tokyo neighbourhoods, passed a dog chasing after a ball, two little kids ringing bells on bicycles, a man nearly falling off a ladder as he fixed his TV antenna. And found himself standing in front of the Seirin school gates. _So it’s going to be like this, huh,_ he said to himself. Then he strode in.

Seirin was still practising in the gym. Hayama saw Kagami doing layups ( _damn, his jump’s still fricking awesome,_ was his grudging thought), some first-years whose names escaped him doing shooting drills ( _no wonder that skinny punk could make the shot during that weird time he played point guard,_ Hayama observed), Kuroko talking to Riko. Watching all this, Hayama shuffled on the spot. What was the point of him being there? He didn’t even know why his feet took him to Seirin. Shaking his head, he turned to leave. And bumped right into Kiyoshi.  

“Hayama-kun!” Kiyoshi greeted him. “Great to see you!”

“Oh. Kiyoshi.” Hayama gave him a simultaneous shrug-and-nod. “So...uh. I’m going now. See ya.”

“Hold it!” Kiyoshi’s giant hand descended on his shoulder, holding him on the spot. “You can’t just leave like this! There’s a reason you came all the way here, right?” His eyes crinkled. “It’s so rare for you to come to Tokyo.”

“Er...yeah. Wait. I think so. Actually…” Hayama wanted to slap himself. As usual he babbled when he didn’t know what to say. “I don’t know why I came here.” He decided for honesty in the end.

“Huh.” Kiyoshi scratched his head. “Well...never mind! Sometimes I don’t know why I go to places either!”

Somehow, Hayama was not surprised.

“Why don’t you just join us for practice then? It’ll be a big help, you’re a fantastic basketball player!”

“Sure,” Hayama agreed. Maybe playing with Seirin could illuminate him. Before Kiyoshi could bring him into the gym, however, Hayama stopped him.

“Hang on. Ironheart. I wanna say something.”

Kiyoshi raised an eyebrow. And then Hayama said seven words.

 

When they entered the gym, they were greeted by exclamations of surprise. The Seirin team stopped their game to challenge Hayama to a practice match. Hayama joined a team with Izuki and Kuroko, against Kagami on the other team. Despite his regular peals of laughter (Izuki was a _fricking riot_ , Hayama didn’t know why the Seirin captain looked like he was about to burst a vein), Hayama’s team narrowly won over Kagami’s. 

“Heh, you’re a one-time fluke, aren’tcha,” Hayama gloated at Kagami’s rapidly reddening face. “You’ve got no skill with the ball, right.” He was about to taunt him even more when Riko interrupted him.

“Okay, Hayama-kun, now that you’ve had a win, it’s _my_ turn to beat you!”

“Oh, you wanna go?” Smirking, Hayama rolled a basketball across the span of his arms, ending with it spinning on a finger. “Let’s do it! I’ll crush you.”

“Idiot.” Riko rolled her eyes. “Not basketball. Foosball. We have a table in the common room round the corner.”

Their foosball game went on, and soon Riko started racking up the goals. Her face had lit up in a toothy grin; she let out high-pitched ‘ _ha-ha_ ’s which reminded Hayama of that New Year’s eve night when he kept on winning and she couldn’t stop herself laughing even though she had been so behind. He was losing now, but he never felt this apathetic about losing before.

“It’s my win again!” hooted Riko once she shot another goal straight through Hayama’s little plastic foosball men. “Okay, next round—”

“Wait.” Hayama stalled her with a hand over hers on the foosball bar. “I got something to say.” He made sure that she looked up to throw him an impatient glare before he went on. “Like I told Ironheart earlier, I’m gonna make sure you understand this too. In the next competition. I don’t care what it is—the Interhigh or the Winter Cup or the Spring tournament, anything.” He took a deep breath. “I’m going to beat you next time.”

A blink, before Riko’s lips stretched into a smile. “You can try, but Seirin won’t go down so easily.” She turned back to the game.

That was a typical response. Something entirely expected from the sentence he had just told Riko, the sentence he had earlier told Kiyoshi. Only Hayama knew the gravitas of what he had imparted to them. It was his acceptance of Rakuzan’s loss. It was his acknowledgement of Riko’s coaching ability. It was his acknowledgement of Kiyoshi as a part of Seirin, of Kiyoshi as a rival even if he didn’t play on the court. Nevertheless, he seared their faces into his memories. Kiyoshi’s grin, as bright as any shaft of sunlight through a wide, open window. Riko’s smile.

He curled his hands around the foosball bars. “Okay, this round’s gonna be my win!” he crowed.

After finishing many, many rounds of foosball (Hayama lost track of how many wins he had; he also didn’t know Riko’s), Hayama walked with Riko out the Seirin school grounds. A light drizzle was coming down. All the view in front of him was coated in light grey, as though wanting to drag Hayama down in its dreary gloominess. As if it could do that! He was in too much of an adrenaline-high after that foosball game. And he had _orange hair._ No other colour was better than orange. Hah, take that, rain!

“You should give me your number,” said Hayama to Riko, about to head to the train station to get back to Kyoto. “Then I can kick your ass in another game next time I come to Tokyo.”

“Hey, I won earlier!” was Riko’s immediate retort. Under their shared umbrella, she wrote her number down on a slip of paper. “I still owe you for that crane game, though,” she said, handing the slip to him. “And that shooting game.”

“Just give it up, you can’t beat me.” Hayama stuck his tongue out at her. Then he dashed towards the bus stop across the road, lifting a hand in goodbye.

“Take care, Hayama-kun!” she called after him.

Under the shelter of the bus stop, Hayama shook his head, getting rid of rain droplets in his hair. Before Riko could walk away, he shouted at her.

“Hey, Riko, look!” Once she turned to him, from his pocket he pulled out the amulet she had given him. It was an orange silk pouch, inside it the charm for good health. In exaggerated slowness, he dropped the slip she had given him into the pouch. “I’m gonna take good care of myself, so you should, too! And maybe if I put your number next to my amulet, you'll get good health juju!”

Hayama saw Riko roll her eyes. She turned away and started walking back home. “Idiot,” she muttered to herself. But she failed to stop her lips twitching.

On the bus stop bench, Hayama swung his legs to and fro, waiting for the bus taking him to the train station to arrive. The rain had gotten heavier but he couldn’t stop grinning. Wonder when I’ll come here again, he thought.

_Damn. Now I really can’t wait for the next basketball tournament._


End file.
